I knew he was dead.  Everyone else who had been there knew that too.  In response to the Jewish leaders’ request that the bodies not be left up on the Sabbath, Pilate sent soldiers to break the legs of the crucified to hasten their deaths.  But they didn’t bother to break Jesus’ legs because he was already dead.

The other two crucified Jews would probably be hauled to the trash dump in the valley of Gehenna.  But what about Jesus?  How I loved him!—all his followers did.  He needed a proper burial.  I couldn’t do it alone and there were no men around.  Besides, it might be dangerous to step forward and claim his body.  Already there were rumors that Jesus’ disciples were the next target of the ruling council.  There wasn’t time for tears.  I sat down in the shade of a rock to think.

Soon a small group appeared led by two men in richly-ornamented robes.  Members of the Council?  Pharisees?  They approached the cross and began the process of taking down Jesus’ body.  I didn’t know they were believers that Jesus was the Son of God.  They never let on.  I didn’t know they loved my Jesus too.  How carefully they pulled out the nails.  How tenderly they cradled his body as they balanced it to earth, laid it on a stretcher and covered it with a shroud.  How nimbly they walked through the descending dusk to the garden across the way.  I followed.  I had to see.  He was my master.  

Propped a little off the ground in a space amid the lush plantings of the garden lay a long rock, its top flat, its sides chiseled away.  Someone had managed to drag it there near the tombs to ease the labor of preparing a body for burial.  Joseph and Nicodemus carefully placed Jesus’ body on the rock and called for their servants to bring the supplies they were carrying—bundles of linen and jars of spices, so many spices that it took three men to carry them on their backs.  Then Joseph and Nicodemus wrapped Jesus’ body in strips of linen layered with the spices—and they themselves did it, not their servants.  Such humility these embroidered and gilded Pharisees showed.  Had Jesus served them too by washing their feet?  Now they lifted and wrapped, aloe caking under their rings, tears falling into the spices and releasing more fragrance.  Finished.  Night was falling, the Sabbath beginning, but they stood in silence for a minute, these two respected leaders of the Jews.  They had defiled themselves, made themselves unclean, by handling a dead body.  To my astonishment, one and then the other bent to gently kiss the body of my Lord.  Then, with the help of the servants, they laid him in the tomb and struggled together to roll the huge stone across the entrance.  Joseph and Nicodemus placed their hands briefly on each other’s shoulders then walked away.

*****

But Jesus didn’t stay dead.  That’s not possible!  How can a dead body come back to life?  He really was dead, with the marks of death and a deep sword gash in his side where a gush of blood and water poured out.  I saw it!

Yet now the strips of linen are piled empty on the cold stone of the grave.  Jesus spoke to Mary of Magdala in the garden.  Some of his disciples saw angels.  The Roman soldiers guarding the tomb are in trouble.  And Jesus’ mother—well, she can’t stop singing!  

I saw Jesus too.  The blood and wounds from three days ago are but strong scars.  He called me by name.  I fell at his feet and wanted to cry but instead we laughed together.  He is risen from the dead!  He is risen indeed!  “I can hardly believe this is true,” I told Jesus.  He looked at me deeply and smiled.  “I told you, didn’t I?  Now go tell everybody,” he said.  “Blessed are those who have not seen me and yet believe.  I am the resurrection and the life.  Whoever believes in me will never stay dead either but will have everlasting life.  Tell everyone!”

	Low in the grave he lay, Jesus my Savior, waiting the coming day, Jesus my Lord.
	Vainly they watch his bed, Jesus my Savior, vainly they seal the dead, Jesus my Lord.
	Death cannot keep its prey, Jesus my Savior; he tore the bars away, Jesus my Lord!

	Up from the grave he arose, with a mighty triumph o’er his foes!
	He arose a victor from the dark domain, and he lives forever, with his saints to reign.
	He arose!  He arose!  Hallelujah!  Christ arose!
						Robert Lowry, 1874

From Jan, with love in our crucified and risen Savior

(John 19:28-42; John 20:1-18, 29; Matthew 28; John 3:16; John 11:25-26)

I hung behind the crowd as Jesus was taken from the Praetorium to the Place of the Skull.  Jesus was weak from the scourging, so the soldiers made a passerby carry his cross.  I could see stripes of dark blood staining the back of Jesus’ tunic.  As he stumbled along the road he wasn’t even wearing his sandals.  One of the guards at the palace had snatched them away as he mocked Jesus, sneering, “You won’t need these anymore.”  Three men were being crucified.  I couldn’t look as soldiers stretched out condemned limbs and pounded nails.  I covered my ears to cries of anguish, to moans as the crosses were lifted and body weight pulled against the piercings.  Done.  “Who’s next?” yelled one of the soldiers.  The rest of them laughed and the crowd shrank back.  In a short while many people had drifted away.  The main event was over and it would take forever for these men to die.  The centurion released most of his soldiers to other duties.  Plenty of people looked up at the crucifixion from the busy road and made comments, but soon, up on the hill, just a scattering of onlookers remained, with a huddle of women some distance back.  

Finally I looked at Jesus—bleeding, racked with pain, already struggling to breathe, his face in anguish, yet his eyes focused.  Ahead he saw the city he loved and wept over, the city whose people forgot their hosannas and turned their backs on him.  To his left he saw the magnificent temple, his Father’s house, whose leaders clung to the laws of men rather than their Maker.  Across the road he saw a garden, with a new tomb cut out of rock.  Nearby he saw his beloved mother, his dear friend John, and the criminals crucified next to him.  And he saw me.  

Oh Jesus!  It’s my fault!  I didn’t believe you.  I was afraid.  I was selfish.  I loved praise from men more than from you.  I loved my comfortable life more than your truth.  I thought I could make my own rules.  I didn’t love as you love.  I denied you.  I pretended you were someone else.  I pretended I couldn’t hear you.  I betrayed you.  I hated you.  It’s my sin that put you there.  It’s my death you’re dying.

I ran to the cross.  I kissed Jesus’ wounded feet and let his blood fall on me.  At noon the sun disappeared and darkness descended.  Creation mourned its dying Maker.  The minutes ticked by interminably.  Jesus’ physical pain was excruciating; what was his inner torment?  He was in agony, yet still Jesus spoke words of love and truth as his life was slipping away.  How long, O Lord?  How great is my sin!  

“Finally, with a loud cry, Jesus breathed his last.  The curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom.  And when the centurion, who stood there in front of Jesus, heard his cry and saw how he died, he said, ‘Surely this man was the Son of God!’” (Mark 15:37-39).

*********

It is finished.  Jesus completed his mission to bring salvation to sinners.  The Son of God came to earth as a real human being, lived the perfect life we could not live and died the death we deserve.  In the greatest exchange ever, he took our sin and guilt and gives forgiveness and new life now and forever to those who believe in him.  God himself put an exclamation point on his completed work by tearing the thirty-foot-long, four-inch-thick curtain in the temple that separated him from his people.  Jesus’ broken body is the entrance into the forgiving embrace of our Father.  All are welcome, even a centurion who pounded nails into human flesh.  Even me.  Even you.

O wondrous love!  Bountiful forgiveness!  Amazing grace!  Would you run to the cross with me?  Kneel in repentance.  Believe in his death for you and receive forgiveness and eternal life.  Fall down in grateful worship under his blood poured out for sinners—poured out for broken people, poured out for me, poured out for you.

(Mark 15:16-41)

From Jan, with love in our Crucified and Risen Savior

Mark 14:32-42  v. 32  Then they went to a place called Gethsemane, and Jesus said to his disciples, “Sit here while I pray.”  

With all the talk and all the candles the room was warm and still scented with the olive oil and lamb of our Passover meal.  Jesus wanted to pray in the garden across the Kidron valley so we all got up to follow.  As I stepped out of the doorway the cool night air pushed aside my drowsiness.  Fragrant spring blossoms contrasted with the uneasiness I felt as some of us lagged behind.  “What’s all this about betraying Jesus?” asked one of our number.  “Did you get who he meant?”  “I don’t know.  But what did he mean when he said the bread was his body and the wine was his blood?”  “I love to be with him but I don’t know what he’s talking about half the time.”  

Jesus had picked up the pace and we almost had to run to keep up.  The olive grove was away from the city and peaceful.  “Sit here while I pray,” said Jesus.  He took Peter, James and John with him as he walked in farther among the trees.  They were the closest to Jesus and I didn’t begrudge them the time with him.  Maybe I could get a little rest.  But almost immediately Jesus began to pray.  I stepped a little closer underneath thick branches.  Jesus’ intensity kept my attention though I couldn’t understand what he said.  One of the three put a hand on Jesus’ shoulder.  He stopped and turned his head and now I heard his words:  “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death.  Stay here and keep watch.”  Death?  Could sorrow kill a man?  Peter, James and John sat down, their backs finding the curves of gnarled olive trees.  

Jesus went a little farther and I had a clear view of him through the branches.  There was a rocky ledge where the olive trees couldn’t grow and he stopped there, falling to his knees on a broad stretch of flat stone.  He raised his arms to heaven and cried out, then he folded himself to the ground.  His shoulders heaved.  He got up, walked back and forth, lifted his hands, knelt again.  I had never seen him so agitated, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him.  I glanced aside at the three who had walked ahead with him.  Were they in agony of prayer too?  They were asleep!  This time when Jesus got up he walked toward the three.  “Wake up!” he commanded.  He was sweating profusely and there was urgency in his voice.  “Can’t you even pray for one hour?”  He needed them, I could tell, but even at a distance I could hear his love for them temper his voice as he added, “The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.”  They looked at him, groggy and confused, then at one another as they straightened up and returned to prayer.  

My focus moved to Jesus, who had slipped back among the trees to the bare rock and was already in agony again.  He knelt, he called out, he pounded at the rock, he paced, he rubbed the sweat from his face with his sleeve, he reached to heaven—I couldn’t turn aside as I watched this tumult of prayer.  Then Jesus exhaled deeply and was still.  He bent down and lay facedown flat on the rock, stretching his arms out to the sides.  I could feel his peace even from my vantage point.  Strange, though.  His form on the rock reminded me of a Roman cross.  I shivered.  

I don’t know how long Jesus lay there motionless.  When he got up and headed back he circled in my direction.  He knew I was there; he always knows where we are and what we’re thinking.  His hair was matted with sweat…and was that blood smeared on his face?  I didn’t know if I should look away, or apologize for intruding, but Jesus caught my eye and with his great compassion held my gaze.  He almost smiled.  “I love you,” he said.  “As I have loved you, love one another” (John 13:34).  I nodded.  I couldn’t speak.  I didn’t know why my eyes were filling with tears.  I could hear a commotion in the distance.  The other three were sleeping again.  “Enough!” said Jesus as he approached them.  “The hour has come.  Let’s go!  Here comes my betrayer.”  

They brought Jesus to Golgotha (which means the Place of the Skull)…and they crucified him….  Those who passed by hurled insults at him  (Mark 15:22, 24, 29).

“Who was the guilty?  Who brought this upon thee? 
Alas, my treason, Jesus, has undone thee. 
‘Twas I, Lord Jesus, I it was denied thee. 
I crucified thee.” 
(Johann Heermann, 1585-1647)

Forgive me, Jesus.  Thank you, Jesus, that you died for my sins so I can live forever with you.  Thank you, Father, that you accepted Jesus’ sacrifice as payment in full for all my sins.

The gift of forgiveness, peace and eternal life is for anyone who will believe that Jesus died for him or her.  Would you kneel with me in repentance and trust as we await the resurrection?

What wondrous love is this, O my soul, O my soul!
What wondrous love is this, O my soul!
What wondrous love is this that caused the Lord of bliss
To bear the dreadful curse for my soul, for my soul,
To bear the dreadful curse for my soul?
(American folk hymn)

O, come and mourn with me a while;
O, come near to the Savior's side;
O, come together, let us mourn:
Jesus our Love is crucified.

Frederick William Faber

Ecce Homo, Rutilio Manetti (1571-1639, Siena)
From a parish church in Buonconvento in Tuscany

He wasn’t sure he liked this new position as chief guard of the prisoners.  “We have to go,” he said to their current prisoner Jesus of Nazareth, and they led him to a large hall where the soldiers gathered.  “Hey, this guy says he’s the king of the Jews!” yelled one of the guards.  Semi-interested faces looked up; snickers started, then growing movement and chatter.  “Let’s dress him up,” called another voice.  “Get that purple blanket we use for Pilate’s horse.”  They pulled off Jesus’ clothes, yanking the seamless sheath up over his head, and wrapped the rough purple cloth around him.  “Hah!  He needs a crown and I’ve got just the thing!”  A thorn bush was right outside, and a soldier carefully, so as not to puncture himself, fashioned a crown; it was smashed onto Jesus’ head with a staff.  He didn’t look scared, this prisoner, only sorrowful—sorrowful and bloody.  “Here’s our king!  Hail, king of the Jews!  What a great king!  Hah!  King of kings!”  Men were shoving Jesus, spitting on him, yanking the robe tight around him, hitting him with the staff.  “Stop it!” yelled the chief guard.  But the jostling continued.  Soldiers pressed in close for their amusement, and the guard lost his balance.  He fell forward into an opening among the men and hit the floor on his knees and forearms.  He was right at Jesus’ feet.  Strong feet, dirty feet, holy feet, spread apart in a firm stance.  Jesus’ feet.  For an instant time stood still and the noise dimmed.  The guard kissed Jesus’ feet.  Oh, what had come over him?  Blood, it was blood; he had to get up before he got stepped on hard.  But just as he was pushing himself up, a strong hand reached under his arm and lifted him.  Instantly the guard knew what he would see even before he looked up.  The shoving and abuse continued but in the midst of it Jesus’ gaze was steady.  His eyes locked onto the guard’s.  Kind eyes.  “Forgive them,” Jesus said.  “They don’t know what they’re doing.”  It was a second before the guard could turn away.  “Enough!” he shouted.  “Everybody’s got work to do!”  The commotion intensified briefly and he put an arm around Jesus to steady him.  Jesus’ arm reached up onto the guard’s shoulder and his robe slipped down.  They clung to each other.  A final blow pushed off the crown; it fell at Jesus’ feet.  Movement tapered off and men returned to their jobs.  The guard backed off, and Jesus stood there naked and bleeding.  A foretaste, the guard thought with a shiver.  He helped Jesus put his clothes back on.  “I’m sorry,” he said.  How pathetic that sounded.  A flicker of torchlight caught drops of blood on the crown and they glittered briefly like jewels.  King of the Jews.  Right.  This man was finished.

Soon he was finished, on a Roman cross, suffering God’s wrath for the sins of those who put him there, for the sins of all who go their own way, for my sins, for yours.  But that wasn’t the end.  Three days later Jesus burst out of the grave, alive forever, victorious over sin and Satan and hell and death.  With strength and kindness he offers forgiveness and life without end to all who accept his death for their sins.  He offers hope and peace to all who bow their hearts before him.  This holy Easter season, will you kneel with me at Jesus’ feet?

13th century crucifix, Church of San Martín, Frómista, Castile y León, Spain

Psalm 88: 6-7a You have put me in the lowest pit, in the darkest depths. Your wrath lies heavily upon me….

The agony had started in the garden. Jesus knew what was ahead; he had been part of the eternal plan before the foundation of the world. The second person of the Trinity had taken on human flesh, true God becoming true man, to bear the punishment for the sins of his heedless and hostile creation. The climax of redemption was near. Jesus had been living thirty-three years on earth, a real man with a real body that would bleed and nerves that would transmit searing pain, and a mind that could contemplate rejection and the horror of the cross. What was ahead was the agreed-upon will of God; it was right and would lead to glory, but the suffering would be unimaginable. It wouldn’t just be the torture of crucifixion, Keep reading

 

Mark 14:27-28
“You will all fall away,” Jesus told his disciples, “for it is written, ‘I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered.’ But after I have risen, I will go ahead of you into Galilee.”

They had just shared the Passover meal that Thursday evening and something was amiss. In the midst of the ancient and beautiful liturgy, known by all and much loved, Jesus had changed the words: The broken bread was his body, the wine was the new covenant in his blood. What? The astounded disciples couldn’t grasp it. Something was about to happen–indeed, Jesus had identified his betrayer–but they didn’t see the whole picture. Now, quoting Zechariah, Jesus told them they would all fall away. “Not me!” insisted Peter, and all agreed.

Then Jesus gave this tantalizing promise that we might miss: “After I have risen, I will go ahead of you into Galilee.” Keep reading